


Four Kings

by Rebldomakr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lily died James didn't, Potentially Powerful Harry Potter, Pureblood Society, elitism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: Introducing, Harry J. Potter, son of Lord James Potter.
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Potter, James Potter/Original Female Character(s), Past James Potter/Lily Evans Potter - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Four Kings

“The House of Potter was once near extinction, near poverty.” James, holding the hand of his seven-year-old son, walked quietly down the stone-walled path. At the very end spawned a small garden, with a fountain in the middle, and a family tree carved into a large marble block that began with Penelope and Telemachus Potter. “Our ancestor Telemachus was the seventh son of his father. All of his older brother had died before marriage or having children. Much of the family fortune had been lost in marrying his brothers off. Telemachus worked hard and chose his wife, a witch from a lower pureblood family that he loved dearly and who he knew loved him just as much,”

They walked around the fountain and stopped in front of the marble block. All around them, a gentle breeze that managed to get in despite the walls gently pushed against the flowers planted around the fountain and against those walls. Tulips, rose bushes, lilies, lilacs, berry bushes, and thick green stems that carried mouths that snapped at the air looking for insects and tendrils that shot off wriggling in the air.

“This is your family tree,” James said. He pointed about halfway down the stone. “This is you, son of James and Lily. And this is your sister, daughter of James and Morgan,”

Harry let go of his dad’s hand and looked in closer. His hand reached out and rubbed against the engraved names. He had to stand on the tips of his toes to get very far, but James just bent down and scooped him up.

The boy giggled softly. “Dad!” He grinned, wide, as James sat him up on shoulders.

“Go ahead. You know how to read, don’t you?” James teased.

“That’s great-uncle Charlie!” He pointed. “And, that’s Cygnus, and Artemis and Apollo! There’s Aaron! And, Violetta, and Dionne, and…Everybody!” He threw his arms up in the air. “Where’s Braxton, dad?”

“Braxton’s a Rosier,” James said. “See here. Briar Potter married Dean Rosier and had one son. That’s Braxton. But look at the whole tree, Harry – do you see how few in numbers we Potters once were?”

“There’s lots of us, now,” Harry said.

James nodded. “There’s fifteen Potter’s in your generation,” He said. “One day, you’ll do what I do. You’ll help take care of them and welcome their children into the House of Potter, if they, too, are Potter’s. Then, one day, you’ll have your own children, and teach them everything I’m teaching you,“

“I don’t want to be a dad,” Harry said. “Or a teacher!”

“Right now, I can’t imagine you care very much.” James laughed. “Come on, son. Why don’t you look for somebody?”

“How about…Yu?” Harry suggested.

They found Yu, son of Apollo and Baozhai Potter, at the end of four siblings. His sisters; Dionne, Diana, and Chang’e were listed before him because they’re older than him. Yu was the youngest Potter – he was born only a couple weeks ago.

“Why does Fabius Potter not have a dad?” Harry asked, reaching out and pointing at the name – the father to Briar, Bartholomew, and Aaron Potter. Bartholomew had five daughters – all of them close to Harry’s age.

“His mother, Fabia, was attacked when she was young,” James said. “You can tell by looking at the years they were born, Harry, see…” He pointed at the numbers underneath Fabia’s name then Fabius’ name. “Fabia gave birth to her son when she was fourteen,”

“Hebe’s thirteen,” Harry said.

“She is and she’s a child, isn’t she, just like you,” James said.

Harry nodded.

“You have to understand Harry, that there are people in the world that aren’t very nice. Fabia wasn’t protected because our ancestor, her father, didn’t understand the danger against young witches like her. Young wizards like you, too. I protect our family, but one day you will have to. You’ll have to make no witch or wizard in our family is hurt, never like Fabia was,” James said.

“I get it, dad,” Harry said.

“Good.” James squeezed Harry’s knee. “This place, Harry, the Potter Garden – is something you’ll also have to protect when you’re older,”

James, with Harry still on his shoulder, turned around and directed them both now at the fountain.

Made out of light grey stone, there were four bowls with each one on top smaller than the one below. At the base, a reptilian tale curled around the stand with the end laid over the base. Each bowl at ruins scraped into the rims and on the sides had a symbol carved into the stone. At the bottom, a triangle with a circle and a line drawn inside. At the one above it, an eye. At the second to the top, a symbol representing the sun. At the very top, a crescent.

“This fountain’s belonged to our family since its start. An old story says our ancestor took the family Invisibility Cloak and disguised himself while he built these walls, to protect this fountain from people who were polluting the water,” James said. “The same cloak that would protect him from Death until the day he was ready to leave this world,”

“Is that what really happened?” Harry asked.

“Probably not,” James admitted. “Stories are stories, Harry, but our stories always have some truth to them. It’s a way to pass on our history. Our ancestor did build these walls. This fountain was once very dirty, but now it runs crystal clear because we’ve taken care of it,”

Harry leaned out and stuck his hand underneath the flowing water. It ran over his fingers and he would one day swore that the water held onto him when he pulled his hand free, like someone’s slender finger trying to wrap around his.

“We better get going. It’s getting dark.” James glanced up at the sky. The sun was beginning to be set.

They have been out, all day.

“Dad, do you think mum would like this garden?” Harry asked.

“I bet she would,” James said. He started to walk away from the fountain, blinking and holding his eyes shut for longer than just a heartbeat.

“Can we take mum and Fey here?” Harry put his hand on top of his James’ head, beginning to play with the hair.

James looked on ahead – thinking – and it took him longer than it should have for him to nod. "Maybe one day," He decided. 

As soon as they exited out of the walled in area, out into a large forest, James apparated them both home.

* * *

Morgan Potter quietly brushed through her son’s hair, watching the boy’s face scrunch up whenever the brush hit a knot or a particularly unruly lock. Harry was her son, though admittedly not by blood. She didn’t carry him in her womb for nine months, but she was the one to raise him. He was as much hers as Fey was – and she knew he saw her as his mother, just as much as she saw him as her own.

“Mum, why do I have to do this?” Harry whined.

“Because it’s your eighth birthday today,” Morgan said. “Fey sat completely still while I did her hair. You should be able to. She’s only four,”

“She’ll be five in August,” Harry argued.

“Harry.” She sighed out. A verbal warning, for him to listen and let him know that if he continued to act up she wouldn’t be happy.

Thankfully, her son just pouted and continued to wince in pain as she brushed out his hair.

She was trying a new tactic in keeping in somewhat controlled. James had taken to shaving it down, but she knew Harry wouldn’t like that at all. So, it was grown out. It had, honestly, grown even more unmanageable. However, now, if brushed out and slicked up with a palmful of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion then crunched up with a knut-sized dollop of Sleekeazy’s Curling Solution it would turn into neat curls.

Morgan finished with Harry and told him to stand up. “Minty! Thymy!” She yelled.

Two House Elves popped into Harry’s room. Minty and Thymy were both dressed in purple attire that they had to make themselves, least they be freed, but they were able to put themselves in fine enough clothes that they looked right in place as belonging to the Potter family. Minty was a little smaller with giant green eyes, while Thymy was paler than Minty and had a bunch of hair trying to grow off of the top of her head.

“Fetch me Harry’s clothes for tonight,” Morgan said.

“I hate dress clothes,” Harry complained.

Minty and Thymy dressed Harry.

Young wizards didn’t wear robes to formal events. Instead, it was a skirt hanging from the waist down. Wool socks were pulled up to his knees, with flat shoes. A plain vest over a plain, white shirt with a ribbon tied into bow over the center of their chest. Then, a cloak of varied length depending on the season laid over shoulders with the clasp expertly hidden underneath the bow. So, Harry was dressed as such.

The skirt and cloak were both dark green, with the cloak short to come to just mid-back. The vest dark grey and the ribbon was striped grey and green to match. His socks and shoes were black. Underneath his skirt was a short, white petticoat to give it volume.

“I look ugly,” Harry said as he stood in front of the mirror.

“Harry, you look gorgeous.” Morgan stepped behind Harry, fidgeting with his hair to organize the curls a little more. “The green suits you perfectly,” Though she did wish she had gotten him red, since the color always made Harry's eyes stand out beautifully. Sadly, there wasn’t any quality red fabric available that she liked when she was ordering Harry’s outfit.

“Minty, what do you think Harry needs?” She asked suddenly, turning to stare at the Elf.

“Master Harry looks perfect,” Minty crooned.

“Thymy?” She turned to the other.

“Something shiny,” The Elf said. “Thymy has idea for Master Harry. Can Thymy try it?”

“Please do,” Morgan permitted.

Thymy went over to the standing jewelry box; It was carved out of the trunk of a mahogany tree. It was a gift from James to Morgan when they were about to marry, but she passed it down to Harry when he was younger. It was made from the same tree that gave the wood that made James’ wand. She thought it was suitable for his son to have such a thing, rather than her. She also preferred the jewelry box her mother passed down to her.

The Elf opened a middle drawer and pulled out a gold ring. “Master James’ old ring. Fits Master Harry,”

The ring was James’ ring when he was Harry’s age. When Thymy brought it to Harry, she slipped it over a finger and just as she said, it fit.

“Oh, beautiful idea Thymy,” Morgan approved. “Thank you,”

Harry’s nose was scrunched up. He hated this.

“Denebola’s going to be attending today,” Morgan said. “You should look your absolute best, make a good impression,”

“I hate Denebola. She’s, like, insane,” Harry said.

“Harry, she isn’t insane. She’s just a little more active. There isn’t anything wrong with that. Don’t you like playing with her?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t like-like her,” Harry said. “Come on, mum! Let’s go! Draco’s gonna be here, too, and it’s been like forever since I’ve seen him!”

“It’s been a couple weeks at most,” She said. “Alright. We can go down to the ballroom. You’re all ready,”

They left Harry’s room and went towards the stairway, taking it down to the ground floor.

Potter Manor was beautiful and the ballroom was Morgan’s favorite place. The marble floor, the velvet curtains over windows that looked out onto the manor garden, the arched carved by hand in intricate designs, the high ceiling that bowled out and was painted to show the story of Aeneas leaving behind Dido. In the very corner, Venus, and on the other end Jupiter who sat on a cloud after ordering Aeneas to leave.

It was a muggle-dominated story, but it was still an interesting one. Rome gave birth to some of the oldest pureblood lines in the Western world, many of which still exist today. Many of them still claimed to be true descendants of ancient gods and goddesses.

Today, on Harry’s eighth birthday, the ballroom was full.

When they walked in, the music slowed and the room erupted in welcoming applause, honoring Harry.

Morgan let her son go after their arrival. She knew he would much rather play with the other children. She would allow it, then later she would find him and bring him around the room thanking everyone for their presence and gifts.

“Lady Morgan,” Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were the first she encountered. The pureblood lord smiled at her, but didn’t show teeth. She’d grown up with the two of them, just as Harry was growing up with the pureblood children of his generation. “I met your daughter. She doesn’t like leaving her father’s side yet, does she?”

“It was a fight to get her off of me so I could get Harry ready,” Morgan admitted.

“Draco is still attached,” Lucius said. “I don’t think any of us can truly help it. It hasn’t even been a decade since the war ended,”

“No such talk,” Narcissa interrupted. “Lucius, please be a dear and leave us ladies to talk. It’s been so long,”

Lucius nodded and obeyed his wife. He kissed the back of Narcissa’s hand before finally letting go.

Morgan didn’t think she saw the two of them, ever together without their hands attached in some way. They had been like that, even when they were children before they were ever engaged. Lucius wasn’t intended for her, but Narcissa was a Black and she had gotten what she wanted most.

“Our husbands still talk of the war,” Morgan said. “I don’t think they’ll ever stop,”

“Probably not,” Narcissa agreed. “Then again, there’s rumors still that the Dark Lord is alive,”

“I hope not,” Morgan said. “I prefer peace,”

She prefers peace for a multitude of reasons. Her family, the Nott’s, aside, she thought of her children. Fey deserved to have a peaceful, happy childhood. As did Harry, who had lost his birth mother because of it. The famous Lily Evans, who slayed the Dark Lord mere days after giving birth to her son and died because she hadn’t fully healed, had brought an end to that war. Morgan feared what might happen to her son, if the Dark Lord was still alive.

They were soon joined by the other ladies and the topic of war was lost as they all allowed themselves to relax in the presence of each other. They talked about their children and their husbands, easy topics that they all had shared.

It was later in the night when Morgan found herself alone again when she encountered her brother, Arthur.

“I haven’t seen my wife since we got here,” Arthur said immediately. “Have you seen James?”

“Merlin, no.” Morgan chuckled. “We’ve both been so busy. I’ve barely been able to check up on Harry,”

“Well, he was chasing your daughter across the dancefloor earlier,” Arthur said. “You should help him when you have the chance,”

“I think it’s his turn with her,” She said. “Where are your girls?”

“With Fey.” Arthur grinned.

“Oh, my,” Morgan said then began to laugh with her brother, imagining her poor husband trying to handle four young girls. Fey didn't like to leave her father's side much at all. “Why would you do that to him?” She teased.

“He’s a great uncle.” Arthur nodded, very serious in his statement, as though he wasn’t grinning still.

Towards the end of the night, Morgan finally saw her husband again. They stood side by side, hands joined together, while they watched Harry open his gifts and thanked whoever gave him each particular one. Fey was taken to her room by an Elf, after getting overtired with her cousins. The triplets were with her, as well as many of the younger children each sleeping comfortably until their families were ready to leave.

After the gift ceremony, Morgan and James took Harry and led him around the ballroom to personally talk with everyone that had attended. It an obviously painful experience for Harry, which most of the adults clearly enjoyed. They had all suffered such things when they were Harry’s age. It would likely increase with every year, until Harry was seventeen when such celebrated birthday bashes came to an end.

At the very end of the night, it was Morgan who carried Harry into his room. She gave him a bath and put him into his sleeping gown. She fed him a potion to settle his stomach, since after a night of eating sugary foods it was naturally a little upset. Then, she tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead.

Harry wasn’t her son by blood. Morgan wouldn’t ever be as great of a witch as Lily Evan had been, either. But she was the best mother she could be for Harry, because she loved him dearly and would do anything for him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” She whispered before finally leaving.

* * *

Harry’s tutor, Elizaveta Shafiq, was a stern, older woman. She sat quietly watching as he tried to copy the symbols she wrote down. His handwriting wasn’t very good, but he was trying. His mother was always very proud when he could tell her what something meant.

As he messily curved out a crescent – the Moon, representing silver – with his quill, he asked, “Ma’am, why am I learning alchemy? I can’t do magic yet,”

“All knowledge is good knowledge,” Lady Elizaveta said. “Please, continue,”

Harry continued. The seven metals were represented by seven astronomical bodies; Lead to Saturn, Tin to Jupiter, Iron to Mars, Gold to the Sun, Copper to Venus, quicksilver to Mercury, and silver to the Moon. She then made him write out the mundane elements – antimony, arsenic, bismuth, boron, lithium, magnesium, phosphorous, platinum, potassium, sulfur, zinc – then the four basic elements – air, earth, fire, water – before she told him to stop.

She took his parchment and flipped it over.

“Recite the basic elements,” She ordered.

Harry did.

“The seven elements?” She asked.

Harry answered.

She continued asking him questions to list or explain properties of. Then, she laid out a new piece of parchment and requested for him to draw out all the symbols he remembered.

He managed through the four basic elements, the planetary metals, but faltered as he tried to go through the mundane elements. He got some, but stopped short after only four.

“You’re doing good,” Lady Elizaveta said. “Don’t feel bad Harry, you’re doing much better than even I did when I was your age and I was very gifted with these things,”

“What about my mum? Or dad?” Harry asked.

“I believe your father is very talented in transfiguration and somewhat in alchemy,” She said. “Your mother is very skilled in herbology and potion work, I think her garden and greenhouse is beautiful evidence of that,”

Lady Elizaveta changed the subject after that. She pulled back the symbols and set down a new book in front of him.

“It’s time to begin reading Virgil,” She said.

So, Harry was set on trying to speak Latin. He barely even understand what he was saying and she had to constantly correct his pronunciation.

“Mūsa, mihī causās memorā, quō nūmine laesō,” She corrected. “Say the line again,”

“Moosa-“

“Harry, you’re not a cow,” She said. “Try again. Mūsa, mihī causās memorā, quō nūmine laesō,”

Harry tried over and over again, until he was able to speak every one of the first thirty-three lines without absolutely butchering the Latin language. After that, she allowed him to look at the passage he read in English and helped him understand the story. It was all just muggle myth, but taught to him on the request of his mother.

His lessons with Lady Elizaveta went on for many hours in total, but he was done after reading through the passage thanks to his father appearing in the doorway of the small library.

“Wait, Harry. I’m going to have a talk with your teacher, then I want to take you with me to Diagon,” James said.

Harry obediently stayed put, legs swinging, as Lady Elizaveta gathered everything and put it into her bag before following James out into the hallway.

He waited for a total of ten seconds, he knew because he counted, before he stood up and followed after. He hid against the side of a bookshelf, trying to listen through the doorway while his father and teacher talked in hushed voices.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus completely on what they were saying.

“…he’s doing very well, better than what I expected from a boy who lost his mother,”

“He has a mother. Morgan, she’s his mother,”

“I mean his biological mother. Anyways, you should be very proud of him. He’s going to make a great wizard one day,”

“He’s only eight, a little early to tell, don’t you think?”

“You can always tell. And his biological mother left quite a legacy to live up to, and so is his father, and godfather…”

“He hasn’t met his godfather,”

“Lord Black is still a very impressive Auror. I hear he’s going to become head of the office soon,”

“I’m talking about Harry,”

“And you needn’t worry about Harry. He’s a smart young lad. He’s doing very well. You and Morgan are doing a fantastic job with him,”

Harry opened his eyes and stepped away, returning to where he had been sitting.

A minute more and his father said to join him. Hand in hand, they went to the fireplace in a nearby room and took the Floo into the Leaky Cauldron.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! well, if you know my stories - don't worry, Homebound is getting its sequel very soon. I've been super busy with schoolwork and school-related work. I also ended up getting angry at what I had and I'm rewriting it lmfao, the decided plot had a bit of a shift. This, also, isn't really anything new. It's a story idea that I'm considering, but it's on a backburner until I finish off Homebound's sequel and that whole verse that accompanies both. It's been sitting in a folder unoutched for a while, so I thought I might as well post it and see what people think of this AU.


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